#collected in 'daylight and nightmare'

[fictionadventurer]

A Crazy Tale

By G.K. Chesterton (1897)

"Hey, diddle, diddle, The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon."

It is incredible, but true, that a young man sat opposite me in a restaurant and spoke as is hereafter set down.

He was a tall, spare man, carefully dressed in a formal frock-coat and silk hat. His tone was low and casual, his manner simple and very slow, and his bleak blue eyes never changed. Anyone just out of earshot of the words would have supposed that he was describing, in a rather leisurely way, an opera or a cycling tour. I alone heard the words; and ever since that day I have gone about ready for the Apocalypse, expecting the news of some incalculable revolution in human affairs. For I know that we have reached a new era in the history of our planet: the creation of a second Adam.

He spoke as follows, between the puffs of a cigar:

"I do not ask anyone to believe this story. Only in some wild hour of a windy night, when we could believe anything, when the craziest of a knot of old wives is wiser than all the schools of reason, when the blood is lawless and the brain dethroned, when we could see the windmills grind the wind, and the sea drag the moon, the apple-tree grow lemons, and the cow lay eggs, as in a wild half-holiday of nature; then, in the ear and coarsely, let this tale be told.

"When my story begins, I was walking in a still green place. The words sound strange and abrupt even in my own ears; but there is a reason for their abruptness.

"At that point the record of my life breaks off. The day, hour, or second before some stunning blow, some tremendous event befell me, and I awoke without a memory.

"Of the lost knowledge thus sealed within me I have a kind of half-witted fear. I move trembling in the close proximity of something huge, yet hidden in the darkness of my brain. Only of two things I am convinced. The first is, that this event, which I cannot recall, was the greatest of my life; that after all my adventures, wild as they were, were dwarfed in its unapproachable presence. The second comes of a certain hour, when suddenly, and for a second, the veil was lifted and I knew all. It had gone in a flash, but I am profoundly convinced that if I tell to another all the circumstances that led up to that instantaneous revelation, to him also, as he studies them, the words will suddenly give up their meaning, and their simplicity strike him with an awful laughter.

"This then, is the story.

"The greenness, that I walked like one in a dream, stretched away on all sides to the edges of the sky. Sleepily, I let my eyes fall and woke, with a stunning thrill, to clearness. I stood shrunken with the shock, clutching myself in the smallest compass.

"Every inch of the green place was a living thing, a spire or tongue, rooted in the ground for those fantastic armies. The silence deafened me with a sense of busy eating, working, and breeding. I thought of that multitudinous life, and my brain reeled.

"Treading fearfully amid the growing fingers of the earth, I raised my eyes, and at the next moment shut them, as at a blow. High in the empty air blazed and streamed a great fire, which burnt and blinded me every time I raised my eyes to it. I have lived many years under this meteor of a fixed Apocalypse, but I have never survived the feelings of that moment. Men eat and drink, buy and sell, marry, are given in marriage, and all the time there is something in the sky at which they cannot look. They must be very brave.

"Again, a little while after, as in one of the changes in a dream, I found myself looking at something standing in the fields, something which looked at first like a man, and then like two men, and then like two men joined, till, after dizzy turning and tramping round it like the searching of a maze, I found it was some great abortion of nature with two legs at each end, calmly cropping the grass under the staring sun. I have said that I ask no one to believe this story.

"So I travelled along a road of portents, like undeciphered parables. There was no twilight as in a dream; everything was clear cut in the sunlight, standing out in defiant plainness and infantile absurdity. All was in simple colours, like the landscape of a child's alphabet, but to a child who had not learnt the meaning.

"At one time, I seemed to come to the end of the earth; to a place where it fell into space. A little beyond, the land re-commenced, but between the two I looked down into the sky. As I bent over I saw another bending over under me, hanging head downwards in those fallen heavens, a little child with round eyes. It was some strange mercy of God assuredly that the child did not fall far into hopeless eternity."

The young man paused reflectively. I tried to say "a pool," but the words would not come. I seemed to have forgotten it. I seemed to have forgotten everything except his terrible blue eyes, big with unsupportable significance. Then I realised that he was speaking again. "I heard a great noise out of the sky, and I turned and saw a giant. Stories and legends there are of those who, in the morning of the world, strayed also into the borders of the land of giants. But it is impossible for any tongue to utter the overpowering sense of anarchy and portent felt in seeing so much of the landscape moving upon two legs, of looking up and seeing a face like my own, colossal, filling the heavens.

"He lifted me like a flying bird through space and set me upon his shoulder. I shall never forget the sight of his huge bare features growing larger as I came nearer to them; the sun shining on them as they smiled and smiled; a sight to give one dreams."

The young man paused again. I seemed to feel the whole sane universe of custom and experience slipping from me, and with an effort like a drowning man's I cried out desperately. "But it was a man--it was your father."

He raised his eyebrows, as at a coincidence. "So they said," he observed. "Do you know what it means?"

I found myself broken and breathless, as Job might have been, battered with the earthquake question of Omniscience.

He went on, smoking slowly.

"With the giant was a woman. When I saw her something stirred within me like the memory of a previous existence. And after I had lived some little while with them, I began to have an idea of what the truth must be. Instead of killing me, the giant and giantess fed and tended me like servants. I began to understand that in that lost epic of adventures which led up to the greatest event of my life, I must have done some great service for these good people. What it was, I had, by a quaint irony, myself forgotten. But I loved to see it shining with inscrutable affection in the woman's eyes like the secret of the stars. There are few things more beautiful than gratitude.

"One day, as I stood beside her knee, she spoke to me; but I was speechless. A new and dreadful fancy had me by the throat. The woman was smaller than before. The house was smaller: the ceiling was nearer. Heaven and earth, even to the remotest star, were closing in to crush me.

"The next moment I had realize the truth, fled from the house, and plunged into the thickets like a thing possessed. A disease of transformation too monstrous for nightmare had quickened within me. I was growing larger whether I would or no.

"I rolled in the gravel, revolving wild guesses as to whether I should grow to fill the sky, a giant with my head in heaven, bewildered among the golden plumage of Cherubim. This, as a matter of fact, I never did.

"It will always fill me with awe to think that no sign or premonition gave me warning of what I saw next. I merely raised my eyes--and saw it.

"Within a few feet of me was kneeling one of my own size, a little girl with big blue eyes and hair as black as crows.

"The landscape behind her was the same in every hedge and tree that I had left; yet I felt sure I had come into a new world.

"I had got to my feet and made her a kind of bow, looking a fantastic figure enough; but a red star came into her cheek.

" 'Why, you are quite nice,' she said.

"I looked at her enquiringly.

" 'They say you are the mad boy,' she said, 'who stares at everything. But I think I like them mad.'

"I said nothing. I only stood up straight, and thanked God for every turn of my rambling path through that elvish topsey-turveydom, which had led at length to this. Although I had not asked for a miracle in answer, two or three drops of clear water fell out of the open sky.

" 'There will be a storm,' cried the girl hastily.

"She seemed quite frightened of the dark that had come over the wood, and the shocks of sound that shook the sky now and again. This fear surprised me, for she had not seemed afraid of the grass.

"She seemed so broken with the noise and dark and driving rain that I put my arm round her. As I did so, something new came over me: a feeling less alien, and disturbed, more responsible and strangely strong; as if I had inherited a trust and privilege. For the first time I felt a kinship with the monstrous landscape; I knew that I had been sent to the right place.

" 'You are very brave,' she said, as the deafening skies seemed bowed about us and shouting in our ears; 'Do you not hear it?'

" 'I hear the daisies growing,' I said.

"Her answer was lost in the thunder.

"We were miles further on before she said, 'But are you not mad?'

"I spoke; but it seemed as if another spoke in my ear.

" 'I am the first that ever saw in the world. Prophets and sages there have been, out of whose great hearts came schools and churches. But I am the first that ever saw a dandelion as it is.'

"Wind and dark rain swept round, swathing in a cloud the place of that awful proclamation."

The young man paused once more. Some one near me moved his chair against mine. I remember with what a start I realised that I was in a crowded room; not in a desert with an insane hermit.

"But you have not told me," I said, "of the great moment: when you seemed to have discovered all."

"It is soon told," he said. "Ten years afterwards the girl and I stood in one room together: we were man and wife. Other men and women went in and out, all of my own stature. There were no more giants; it was as though I had dreamed of them. I seemed to have come back among my own people.

"Just then my wife, who was bending over a kind of couch, lifted a coverlet, and I saw that for which, haply, I have been sent to this fantastic borderland of things.

"It was a little human creature hardly bigger than a bird. And when I saw it, I--knew everything. I knew what was the greatest event of my life: the event I had forgotten."

I said "Being born" in a low voice.

I did not dare to look at his face.

The next consciousness I had was that he had risen to his feet, and was putting on his gloves very carefully.

I sprang erect also and spoke quickly.

"What does it mean? Are you a man? What thing are you? Are you a savage, or a spirit, or a child? You wear the dress and speak the language of a cultivated pupil of this over-cultivated time: yet you see everything as if you saw it for the first time. What does it mean?"

After a silence he spoke in his quiet way.

"Have you ever said some simple word over and over till it became unmeaning, a scrap of an unknown tongue, till you seem to be opening and shutting your mouth with a cry like an animal's? So it is with the great world in which we live: it begins familiar: it ends unfamiliar. When first men began to think and talk and theorise and work the world over and over with phrases and associations, then it was involved and fated, as a psychological necessity, that some day a creature should be produced, corresponding to the twentieth pronunciation of the word, a new animal with eyes to see and ears to hear; with an intellect capable of performing a new function never before conceived truly; thanking God for his creation. I tell you religion is in its infancy; dervish and anchorite, Crusader and Ironside, were not fanatical enough, or frantic enough, in their adoration. A new type has arrived. You have seen it."

He moved towards the door. Then I noticed he had come to a stand-still again, and was gazing at the floor apparently in deep thought.

"I have never understood them," he said. "Those two creatures I see everywhere, stumping along the ground, first one and then the other. I have never been content with the current explanation that they were my feet."

And he passed out, still carefully buttoning his gloves.

I went back to the table and sat down. About four minutes after he was gone I felt a kind of mental shock, like something resuming its place in my brain.

It occurred to me that the man was mad. I am almost ashamed to admit with what suddenness it came. For so long as I was in his presence, I had believed him and his whole attitude to be sane, normal, complete, and that it was the rest, the whole human race, that were half-witted, since the making of the world.

[godlygivenanxiety]

absolutely insane over guys named Quentin, so boyfriend-shaped...

you have the whole spectrum of Quentin right there, one insominiac that steals from hospitals and simps hard, one lying bastard that gaslights, gatekeeps, girlbosses!

[fogaminghub]

🎭 Step into your nightmares! The Junji Ito Collection has arrived in Dead by Daylight, bringing iconic and unnerving characters to life! From the haunting laughter of Miss Fuchi to the obsession surrounding Tomie, these killer outfits are as chilling as they are stylish. 🌫️👀 

[whumptober]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST

Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!

Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year's playlist can be found here.

The 'Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt' post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics' post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Event Info & Rules

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)

#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Frequently Asked Questions

Please read this before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

PROMPTS

Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.

WORKS

Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.

POSTING

Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).

Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!

[ghostedbunnie]

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly. 

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in. 

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach. 

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.” 

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.” 

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

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[edges-of-night]

I’m so happy you’re back I adore your writing! I wanted to request one where the reader comforts the lotr characters after they have a nightmare💕

Thanks love

This is a sweet request, anon! It turned out a bit angsty, at least in parts... I hope you’ll enjoy the read ♡

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn frequently dreams of Narsil, Isildur, and the shadows of his ancestors. Those nightmares leave him distraught and at first even disoriented. It takes you a while to get through to him with soft Elven whispers and gentle hands to steady him. When you do, he does calm and holds onto your hand tight and keeps mumbling weakly, “Meleth nín…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Nightmares are worse for Elves than Men, due to their gift of foresight which amplifies the bad things they see in their dreams. The dark future Arwen sees at night haunts her during the daylight, too, but you are there to hold her hands and offer a shoulder to cry on. While she won’t lose hope easily, the shock in Arwen’s heart is deep every time.

.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir won’t tell you about his nightmares until he would start crying one morning, seemingly out of the blue. You are there to comfort him with a gentle hand on his back and all the silence he needs to collect himself, before finally opening up about his fears and the nightmares they conjured. “At least I have the certainty you would not think less of me, knowing what you know now…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

You wake by Elrond’s side when his nightmare punches him out of sleep. For long, terrible moments, he was back amidst the fires of Mount Doom, desperate lungs filled with poison smoke and disbelieving eyes on Isildur’s back. Now you can provide him with air and water to bring him back to the cool calm of Rivendell.

.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

It has taken you far too long to wake poor Éomer from his nightmare. His feverish, sweaty, desperate face would have broken your heart had it lasted any longer. But war leaves its invisible wounds, and Éomer wasn’t spared. He holds onto you for dear life as if he was only half-way back to reality, but you tell him everything would be all right.

.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Upon waking her from her nightmare, Éowyn draws her sword at you, staring you down with a fury you have never seen in her usually so kind eyes before. You back away slowly, speaking softly to bring her back to reality and away from whatever has been haunting her. When she recognises you, Éowyn bursts into tears, hiding her face. “Oh, forgive me! Forgive me, love…!”

.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Childhood trauma has often kept Faramir awake, but creeping its way into his dreams was even worse. When he wakes, he needs only seconds to reorientate himself, but would then cover his mouth to not wake you with his sobs. You, of course, are not bothered but concerned by what you hear and offer Faramir to spend the night awake with him until he would fall asleep in your arms as you watch the sunrise.

.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo tosses and turns in his sleep with big sighs and sobs which eventually wake you up. You know that Frodo isn’t an easy sleeper, but his nightmare phases still shock you anew every time. You gently wake him up to tell him everything was fine, and at first Frodo genuinely seems relieved. However, you know that the following hours won’t be easy for him, so you keep supporting him with kind words and his favourite tea, taking it easy all day.

.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Nightmares are so rare for Galadriel that she has no way of dealing with them. They bring tempests not only to her heart but Lórien, too. You stay with her throughout and guide her back to the light in the days afterwards. She is weak but leans on you for incorrigible support. Thanks to your care, closeness, and words of affirmation, the Lady of Light can return to her normal life.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf’s nightmare has summoned thunder and lightning, keeping you from sleeping. When you try to deliver him from whatever evils keep chasing him, a magical fire flames up. When you try to touch Gandalf’s shoulder again, it diminishes, and you manage to wake him up. The storm is gone almost in an instant, and Gandalf’s face is as soft and friendly as ever. He won’t talk about his nightmare right away.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

One night, you would hear quiet sobs next to you and realise Gimli was crying in his sleep. He would not wake up easy when you pat his shoulder or caress his arm, but eventually his eyes would open and he’d meet yours with a sad and tired gaze. Perhaps he would like to talk to you about his nightmares of Moria’s fall at a later point, but for now, he is content with you letting him cry without judgement, stroking and kissing his hair gently.

.

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Out of fear of giving others leverage against him, Haldir won’t tell anyone of his horrible nightmares. Since your sleep has always been light though, you notice very soon that something is wrong with dear Haldir. While he would deny your offers of comfort rather coldly at first, he eventually asks you to simply listen to his sorrows so that they no longer weigh down his heart. You know how bad the sentiment is for Elves, so you thank him genuinely for sharing it with you.

.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

As with all Elves, nightmares are poison to Legolas due to his Elven abilities. Darkness and terror spread in his heart, and it will take him weeks to recover. You are always there to hug and kiss him – physical touch is what comforts poor Legolas the most in these times. He is as restless as ever, but you remind him that he is safe with you. “Indeed, there no fortress in this world where I would be more secure than in your arms, my love.”

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry always tries rationalising his nightmares, to the point where he won’t allow himself to be vulnerable and let his fear sink in. That is where you can help your poor Hobbit the most: by reminding him that you will always be there for him, no matter if it’s the middle of the night and some random “nonsense darkening his mind”. You sit down with him by a fire and talk about it all.

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

After nightmares, Pippin is often still scared for a longer time. After helping him calm down, you make sure to light as many candles and lamps as possible. Food is also a good comfort for Pippin, which has led you to make strawberry sandwiches at three in the morning twice already. To ground himself further, Pippin would also sometimes sing to you quietly.

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam’s nightmares are intense but thankfully leave as quickly as they come. He usually sleeps well whenever he is with you, and you comforting him after a traumatic dream reminds him why: You take him seriously, sometimes more than he himself does, and don’t ridicule the encounters of his nightmares. Cuddles and a bit of talking usually do the trick, and the two of you fall asleep again soon ♡

[jacevelaryonswife]

Hiding all of our sins from the daylight | Part One

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x servant!female reader

summary: When the hour of the bat came, you went restlessly through the corridors with the dinner of the heir to the iron throne, willing to beg for forgiveness if necessary.

tags: slow burn, slight angst, war mentions

word count: 2.492

jacaerys velaryon masterlist | next part

War is something scary.

At one time, Rhaenyra Targaryen was Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the iron throne, at the next, Aegon Targaryen was named the second of his name in front of all the people of King’s Landing. A twist that in itself was dramatically alarming for Westeros, nevertheless, the murders of princes Lucerys Velaryon and Jaehaerys Targaryen began a bloody and unpredictable embroidery that could pierce even the most important of men.

Dragonstone was already apprehensive enough before the Queen was attacked in her chambers by a member of the kingsguard. After what happened, the air became denser, the corridors more dangerous, at the most tense nights and the feeling of danger constantly hovered in each resident of the island. You believed that manual labor would ease the fear in your chest, that the tiredness of washing the soft sheets of the prince of Dragonstone would ward off the fear for your life that was of little value to your lords. After all, what is the importance of a mere servant in a war between dragons?

Your efforts to stay healthy were continuous day and night. Sweeping, cleaning, washing, removing the last grain of dust from the throne heir's chambers before quickly retreating through the corridors with a dagger under your garment given by Sir Lorent. A wooden bar was supported against the door of the chambers where you and the other servants rested during the hour of the bat, in an attempt to increase safety. Although sleep was something distant after what happened to the Cargyll brothers, you remained productive, alert and nervous for most of the time.

The consequence of lack of rest was experienced abruptly when something, or rather, someone brought you back to reality in a nervous and unpleasant way, even if undeniably worried. Your view was heavy when the presence of Prince Jacaerys hovered in front of you with wide eyes and defensive posture.

"Are you okay, my lady?" The title not consistent with your position used by the prince did not go unnoticed.

What happened?

"Yes, I- my prince, I am fine," you immediately got up from the armchair, still stunned, dropping the tunic you sewed before falling asleep and lowering your head in a sign of reverence, "forgive me, I didn't intend to sleep in here, I don't know what happened."

"It's okay," he said, "I thought you were dead, that the greens had attacked again," and his words went straight to your lungs.

"I am fine, my prince, thank you for your concern," you lowered to collect the fabric and needle from the floor, mortified. "I need to finish sewing-"

“It's late, my lady, you may rest,” he took off his tunic gently from your hands.

“Thank you, my prince, have a good rest.”

You almost ran from his presence and the chambers, greeting Sir Sylak, walking quickly through the corridors while holding the dagger at your waist, hidden by the dress. That night, when you lay in your bed, you slept like you hadn't done for a long time. No nightmares and no interruptions. You almost passed the hour of the nightingale if it wasn't for Elinda, getting ready quickly and eating a piece of bread to go to the prince's quarters.

It was common for Prince Jacaerys been awake and well disposed when you entered his chambers, it was a routine of the few months you served him, but today, he was lying down, although awake.

“Good morning, my prince,” you greeted him as you lowered your head, hearing him reciprocate the greeting.

Your morning activities consisted of calling the other servants to fill the prince's bathtub with warm water, cleaning the dust from the furniture and leaving the room airy. Usually the prince made his bed, which saved a stage of work, although particularly you always aligned the ends of the sheets to be symmetrical.

“I want to spend the day in my chambers,” he announced.

Your surprised look was directed to him immediately. “It's a beautiful day out there, my prince.”

"I know," he pouted, looking down, "but I don't feel willing today."

"Are you feeling anything, my prince? Should I call Master Gerardys?" You asked, worried.

"It is not that, I just-"

Words of incentives went through your head, about duty, sacrifice and hope, but you knew the look on his face, the one you had when you wanted to stay in bed all day, when you felt alone or when you felt lost. Because of that, you opted for silence.

"Shall I inform your Grace that breakfast and other meals will be made in your chambers, my prince?"

"Yes," he replied without looking up, "thank you."

You went to the Queen's chambers to inform the prince's decision, collecting a tray with bread, fruit and a cup of tea. The mornings were always busy in the Dragonstone, which calmed your concerns about possible invaders in the name of the pretender, although your steps were nothing short of fast until you returned to the chambers of the heir to the throne. This time, Prince Jacaerys was in front of the window, staring at the sea without noticing your presence. In fact, by leaving the tray on the table next to the bed you realized that the prince's look was divided between the sea and the stone frame, without paying attention to the landscape in fact. He was thinking, you assumed, deeply, madly, in an immersion that you considered dangerous and that contrasted with the fervent personality that he exhibited next to his equals. From the first day serving Prince Jacaerys, he was nothing but polite and respectful, never abusing his position to coerce you into something, something you were too grateful for.

Obviously it was not up to a servant to interfere in the thoughts of a royal member, but you thought there was nothing wrong with doing this indirectly.

“The breakfast is served, my prince,” you announced in a calm tone, staying next to the table for a few seconds before returning to last night's unfinished work.

The prince walked in silence until he sat down, thanking briefly. From your position, you had a privileged view of the queen's son, observing him discreetly as you sewed the black fabric of his tunic, not losing the way he chewed slowly under the effect of the cold breeze that entered through the window. You shuddered in the seat, using his tunic to warm up, seeing how he seemed to return to his previous state.

"Are you okay, my prince?"

He remained silent for a few seconds as he looked at you before lowering his head, sighing. "Do you believe in the possibility of victory?"

Your eyes widened with the sudden question, throat drying as you looked at him. "I... I don't know, I don't understand about war strategies, my prince," you were uncertain if the truth would be enough for him. "But I believe we have a chance."

“Just like the greens,” he added quickly, finding your look.

“Indeed.” Honestly, you avoided thinking about a possible victory of the greens, fearing that your head would not remain in your body if Dragonstone was taken. "But what I think doesn't matter, my prince."

And with that, he got lost in nothing again. The silence took over the room until you finished the work and moved to store the piece of clothing in one of the chests.

"You are dismissed for now, I wish to be alone."

Again, you were no one to contradict the prince's will, limiting yourself to lowering your head and withdrawing from his presence.

The point was: you didn't want to be alone with your thoughts. I didn't want to imagine a dragon of the greens, for the gods, Vhagar, hovering over the castle with fire and blood. You were also afraid to nap and miss the time for the prince's next meal, so you chose to help the women in the kitchen for the next few hours. Clearly questions were asked about your presence in that part of the castle. Is the prince okay? Did you notice anything different? Did he eat? Was he pale?

- "He was fine, just... he seemed dejected, not sick, but sad, reflective," that's what you replied.

"It's the war, my dear, it destroys the best of men."

That afternoon, Prince Jacarys slept with his back to the door when you brought a piece of mushroom pie and a glass of wine. The questions about his health made you get closer to the bed after leaving the tray on the table, walking slowly so as not to wake him up and touching his forehead with the back of the hand.

You expected a possible fever, not that his eyes would open and make you retreat immediately. "Apologies, m-my prince, I didn't intend to wake you up, I thought you might be sick," you justified with wide eyes, "with a fever."

"I wasn't sleeping," he simply said, pouting and looking at your feet. “And I am not sick, thank you,” he sat on the bed lazily, putting on the boots that were on the floor.

You just froze in place, terrified, thinking you had exceeded a limit not set by him. You began to take a deep breath and felt your hands tremble, although the calm with what the prince began to eat after going to the table was not consistent with your current state, although your restlessness did not go unnoticed by the prince.

"Don't worry, I'm not angry, you were just worried," he looked firmly at you. Even though your breathing had stabilized and the subject waxed, the prince seemed to have more to say. “... I just miss my brother, and how things were before. I wish I had had time to say goodbye to him, to fight for him."

Oh.

“I'm sorry for your loss, my prince, prince Lucerys didn't deserve that en-“

“I wish he was here. With me, mother, Joff and the boys...”

With caution, you leaned your hand on his shoulder, seeking to comfort him as much as possible. He seemed less tense about your touch, especially when you made a slight caress on the tunic, trying not to be intrusive.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and then, unintentionally, he hit his hand against the wine glass and dropped it on his lap, making you immediately look for a cloth to clean it as he stood up "It was my fault," he said.

"I will clean," you knelt in front of him, cleaning the excess liquid carefully so as not to approach his male region, although most of the liquid has accumulated there...

Seven hells.

You took a deep breath when you realized the proximity and the position you were in, along with the same static prince watching everything with wide eyes. Heavens. "Y-you should change, my prince, I... I will wait o-outside," you stood up and walked away in a jump, heart beating faster than you could bear, head spinning when you withdrew from his cameras faster than Sir Sylak, you could question. What did you just do? May the Mother have mercy.

You were scandalized with yourself, wondering what was going on in the prince's head after your actions. Would he request an exchange of servants? Would I accuse you for trying to take advantage of him? Or because it's inappropriate? Oh gods!

Your presence at the time of collecting the dishes and the damaged pants was almost imperceptible, entering the room like a rushed ghost and withdrawing seeking not to be seen, even if he did not notice the prince sniffing your trail like a hound throughout the situation. After leaving the dishes in the kitchen and washing the prince's pants in person, you went to the rest rooms and threw yourself back on your bed. All your choices throughout the day were hasty, by the seven hells, what was happening to you?

Honestly, you feared for the prince's reaction when you returned to his quarters with dinner.

Maybe he would limit himself to dispensing your services politely. Perhaps he would report to the queen personally about the inappropriate acts of his servant and some measure would be taken. What if you were assigned to be a silent sister? For the gods, that would be more than cruel.

When the time of the bat came, you went restlessly through the corridors with the dinner of the heir to the iron throne, willing to beg for forgiveness if necessary.

The prince read a book next to a candle holder near the window, finding your look as soon as the door was opened. You went to the table and put the tray in the same place, facing the floor as the prince approached.

“I wish to talk to you, my lady.”

Oh no, oh no!

He stopped a few steps away from you. "Thank you, for the words of comfort earlier, I appreciate it. And the situation with the wine - you just wanted to help."

"I didn't want to act inappropriately, my prince, please accept my apologies, it won't happen again!" You responded immediately, faster than you intended.

"We're all acting strangely, I don't blame you. We are living moments that challenge us with fear, impotence and uncertainty, which are not limited to the crown, but to all of us," he came closer, speaking quietly. "The war is upon us and I can only think about it - every day - since my mother's throne was usurped, every hour... I just want to be useful and find a way out of this situation, for me, for mother, for Baela, for Luke and for our people."

Oh...

You - you knew you shouldn't and even tried to contain the impulse that made your hand go to his shoulder, as you had done before. Maybe he just needed that: to be heard. With thoughtful eyes, you encouraged him to continue.

"I can't think of anything else," he continued, looking down, "my head hurts everyday when I wake up, but I need to stand up."

"Did you tell Master Gerardys, my prince?"

"I don't want to worry the Queen," he sighed, still looking down.

"The queen will be worried if the worst happens," you gently squeezed his shoulder, which limited itself to touching his hands to silence for a few seconds.

“I just hope we can win,” he whispered.

"I pray to the gods every night for that," daring as you shouldn't, you touched the side of his face before picking it up for yourself. "You must eat and rest, my prince."

Mirroring your attitude, the prince held the left side of your face with determined eyes and welcoming touch. “Thank you.”

But the spark of something you didn't know how to differentiate between uncertainty and expectation was present in the brown eyes of the prince of Dragonstone.

What if that helped in something in your sleep? You doubted it a lot.

——————————————————————————

taglist: @hxtd @fkanita

[buckysouvenir]

outlaw

pairing: bucky barnes x y/n authors note: day four!

the valentine’s day collection 2025: for the first 14 days of february, i’ll be posting a series of short stories inspired by songs, all centered around bucky barnes.

reblogs, likes and comments are always encouraged and highly appreciated! thank you ♡

Bucky Barnes doesn’t stay.

You’ve watched it happen over and over again. Women falling for the quiet storm behind his blue eyes, for the tragic past wrapped in leather and shadows. You’ve seen them smile at him like they’re the ones who will finally be enough to make him stop running.

But they never are.

Why can’t he find what he’s looking for?

Always searching, always restless—like the world itself isn’t enough to hold him. Maybe it never has been. Maybe after everything he’s been through, the idea of belonging anywhere feels more like a cage than a home.

You used to believe he would stop for you. That you could be his anchor, his reason to finally plant his feet on solid ground.

You were wrong.

Because Bucky Barnes is an outlaw, and love has never been a place he stays for long.

The first time you realized he was slipping away, you were standing on the balcony of the compound, the city lights stretching endlessly before you.

“You ever think about leaving?” he asked, his voice low, contemplative.

You frowned. “Leaving?”

His fingers tapped against the railing, his metal hand glinting under the moonlight. “Yeah. Just... getting on a bike and driving until the road disappears.”

There was something heavy in his voice, something distant. You ignored the way it made your stomach twist. “And go where?”

He shrugged. “Anywhere. Nowhere.”

You swallowed. “And what about the people you leave behind?”

Bucky didn’t answer. He just stared out into the night, his jaw tight, his grip on the railing flexing.

That was the first crack in the illusion you had built for yourself—the first sign that he was already planning his escape.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he never stays anywhere for very long.

And he never lets anyone get too close.

Some nights, he lets you in, just a little. There are moments when he holds you tighter than usual, when his fingers ghost over your skin like he’s memorizing the feel of you. There are times when he lets you see the cracks in his armor—the nights when he wakes up shaking, eyes wild, like he’s still trapped in a nightmare he can’t escape.

You never push. You never demand more than he’s willing to give. You just let him hold onto you, let him breathe you in like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the present.

But in the daylight, he’s already slipping away again.

It’s in the way he pulls away when you reach for his hand in front of the others. The way he never calls you his. The way he looks at the door like it’s always an option.

You should have known better than to believe you would be any different.

The night before he leaves, he kisses you like he’s trying to make a memory.

You don’t realize it at the time. You don’t know that this is the last time he’ll touch you like this, that tomorrow you’ll wake up to cold sheets and silence.

All you know is that something feels different.

His hands are desperate, his lips lingering a second too long against yours. When he pulls back, his eyes trace every detail of your face like he’s trying to memorize you.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

You don’t believe him, but you let it go.

Because Bucky Barnes never says goodbye.

When he leaves, you don’t find a note. No explanation.

The only thing he leaves behind is the necklace you gave him—a simple dog tag, worn from his constant touch.

You stare at it, your fingers trembling as you trace the letters of his name.

Somewhere, he is already moving on, already running.

It must feel so alone out there, always running away from someone. But the cruelest part?

Bucky Barnes gets nowhere.

No matter how far he goes, he’s always running in circles—haunted by his past, by his regrets, by the love he refuses to let himself hold onto.

And you can’t chase him anymore.

#taglist: @cjand10

[nicromancytarot]

WHICH ONE OF MY FAVOURITE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS YOU WOULD BE?

This is a general channeling based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I do not charge for these readings, and I do not fake content.

PICK A PILE READING

I asked my spirit guides what favourite fictional character of mine you would identify as, pick a picture and find out what they had to say!

PILE 1

Tom Riddle. (Harry Potter)

Being born into a life of disadvantages cannot be easy, his parents have been a fluke of love rather than a serious one, a small one-sided magically influenced fling turned into the birth of their only son, but one could not have and one did not want, so he was given away. Unwanted, alone, ignored, mistreated. So he assumes power in the only way that he knows how to, having not been given love or care his entire life, all he knew was darkness, and so he worked further with it.

Tom Riddle soon enough became the most overpowered and feared wizard in the entire world, his name itself was one people worried to beckon incase it summoned the dark lord himself, this was the only way for Tom to get his revenge on the world.

But Tom was scared, no matter how old he grew, he was always so concerned for the thought of death that clouded his mind daily, so much of his life was taken from him at the start, and at the end he just wanted more.

Everything he had built, whether with good heart or not, was stolen from his grasp and ripped from under his hands, the little time that he was granted was shortened by his fear, a deep deep terror that he would never have enough of it, that there could not be enough seconds on the clock to count how long he wanted to be alive.

So soon enough, the nightmares that haunted him while he was awake, were the ones that defeated him and dragged him back to sleep.

PILE 2

Mira Troy. (Enola Holmes 2)

Miss Mira Troy, the unexpected villain of the story, the one too overlooked to have the evil intent noticed by those who were near her, the woman with twice the mind of anyone she had to work for, but ignored because of her identity.

Mira Troy took the invisibility that she was granted within her job, her place in society and ran with it, hiding her true self from everyone in order to be the person that no one knew she could become. All her opinions and words were disregarded and seen past, so she created a false persona, she expressed her intentions clearly, but so discreetly that no one who had the opportunity to talk to her would realise that she was indeed capable of the things normally seen fit for a man.

She schemed in darkness but she worked in daylight, achieving more than she would’ve been given, creating all that she was not allowed to have, and all without any wandering eyes, all unnoticed, unseen.

She managed to complete one of the most heinous, risky crimes all in order to make the money that she deserved regardless, and she did it without anybody poking their nose in, purely to play a game with Sherlock, and even then if he was not acquired to help Mira Troy most definitely would’ve gotten away with it.

PILE 3

Elizabeth Boland. (Good Girls)

Beth was just a casual mother when she got herself into some trouble, she would carpool her kids to their soccer games, she would bake cookies for the school bake sales, it was the least expected to know that she and her friends, average mothers like herself were engaging in moving, cleaning and laundering fake cash for a dangerous gang leader.

And even when she managed to find a way out of her predicament, she put herself back in for more, she needed to experience something other than the bore of being a stay at home mother; she discovered how much she enjoyed doing risky things, and even when a gun was held to her head, she didn’t care much for what was going to happen.

She outsmarted those who thought little of her, got the gang leader wrapped around her finger and continued to make the money that she could from doing what no one expected she would. Her plans were always fool proof, they were designed intricately to keep herself out of trouble, and she did it purely just to have a more exciting life. She liked the thrill of it.

Even when she did get caught, her excellence in lying helped her out a ton, making her seem like a sweet innocent mother once again, no one would know what she was really planning on doing.

But maybe she was too easy going, forgiving her husband for cheating multiple times, for faking cancer, for trying to kill her gang leader friend, who may have been more than a friend.

[litnerdwrites]

Justice for Nesta recs (AO3)

Most, if not all, of these recs are in the Justice for Nesta/ ACOSF rewrite/fix-it vein. It will be updates as I find more fics, but feel free to send any recs you have.

TRIGGER WARNING! Many of these fics will be very dark, with references to suicide, ptsd, misogyny, and IC BS. However, I'll be sure to add specifics where applicable.

Fics For Those Craving Nesta JusticeI put all the fics I found into one collection on AO3 that, as the title suggests, are for those craving Nesta Justice. Please read the relevant tags for each fic, as many of them contain reference to PTSD, SA (both past referenced and in story), and general IC BS.

I'll also list every fic in this collection bellow, just to keep them all in one place. Feel free to also add your own finds or works if you have any. The collection is open, but moderated.

Those the Stars Cannot Hear by @kataraavatara An ACOSF rewrite where Mor makes good on her threat to leave Nesta in the CON.

Baby, now we got bad blood by Pumpkinspice_Lou They say you should never come between a male and his mate. Rhysand should've known better. Aka Cassian finally choosing Nesta. Completed two-shot.

A Court of Vice and Victors by Wishcamper Acosf rewritten by a therapist. Need I say more? Incomplete.

You Made Her Like That By BookWorm77071 A few days into their Hike from Hell, Nesta is able to form one coherent thought: I don't want to do this anymore. So she stops. Three chapter short story. Completed.

Nesta becomes a baby by Theladyofbloodshed Exactly what the title says. Oneshot.

A Court of Tangled Flames by Theladyofbloodshed A Neris fic where Nesta gets the love story she deserves.

ACOTAR snippet collection by Theladyofbloodshed A collection of Acotar what ifs.

Nesta vs. The Buffer by Theladyofbloodshed After Nesta finally snaps at another 'family' dinner, calling Cassian and Mor out on their shit, she begins to heal and fall in love on her own terms. With a certain shadowsinger. Completed. Nezriel fic. Anti IC but they kind of redeem themselves at the end. Completed.

AU Where We Pretend Acosf Didn't Happen by Theladyofbloodshed An alternative take to ACOSF, starting from post ACOFS. Nesta ends up leaving Velaris, starting herself on a journey of self discovery and healing. TW Beron Vansera, implied/referenced SA, IC being assholes.

Nightmare Dressed Like A Daydream by This_Immortal_Hope Nesta was a wolf. So, much like a wolf, she bided her time, accepting her exile with ice in her and determination in her heart. When she was ready, she tore their Court of Dreams apart with their own hypocrisy. One shot. No ship. Rhysand is thoroughly put in his place. Oneshot.

Second Chances by miryamdev Cassian apologises to Nesta after the HOFAS bonus chapter.

A trick of the light by closet_monster There was nothing condemning about madness or paralyzing fear. Nesta was familiar with both — they seemed to be a recurring theme in both womanhood and life in Hewn. Oneshot. TW Depression, self harm, and implied abuse. Please double check the tags before reading.

Burn for Eternity by rosemai Nesta is defeated and broken down by the words of her sisters and the IC, so she takes matters into her own hands and meets a group on individuals who could give her the help she needs. Incomplete.

Nesta's Truth by grovellingboyfriends After another year of leaving Nesta alone, Cassian finds Nesta in her apartment on Solstice, standing over a dead man. TW for implied SA, parental abuse, Elain is a bitch. 3/5 chapters published as of making this post.

Daylight by Flowerflamestar Nesta Archeron, banished and betrayed, ran from cold and hatred straight into the light of Day and found a place where she could belong. Completed.

Might I Suggest You Don't Fuck With My Sis by MacabreGiggles The intervention rethought, where the Archeron sisters decide to stand up for one another and put the IC in their place. Incomplete.

I died. I will die. It's alright. I don't mind. By MacabreGiggles Nesta resorts to other means to cope, like drugs. Incomplete. TW. Abuse. Alcolism. Suicide. Sexual assault. Drug abuse.

The Veil of Silence by Hrizantemy There exists a veil of silence, it shrouds our voices masking our truths, muffling our cries, our voices are muted, and dreams whispered. Incomplete.

You're a crisis of my faith by porque_nolosdos Nesta and Elain leave the NC, and upon seeing the IC's reaction, Feyre decides to ditch them too. Incomplete.

A thousand cuts by adelindschade It finally clicks for Cassian just how badly Nesta was hurting (it only took three TW suicide TW attempts), so he decides to try thinking of what Nesta would want. This decision leaves a ripple effect that will change the NC as we know it. Incomplete.

The consequences of normality by TheTeaQueen After the events of ACOSF, things seem relatively normal. Until Cassian realises that Nesta doesn't ask for things, or that self hatred still grips her, or the facade she puts on for her family. When she starts cutting back on training and work in the library, he begins to worry. Maybe things aren't as perfect as he thought. Maybe their methods in helping her weren't as effective as he thought. Incomplete.

Three little words by TheTeaQueen Cassian finally says those three little words that Nesta needed to hear. Oneshot.

Like fire, she raged by TheTeaQueen Emerie stands up for Nesta and puts Rhys and Feyre in their place. Completed.

Of Death and Resurrection by TheTeaQueen Part 1 of In the name of healing and happiness. Nesta was ready to die. So to save Feyre and Nyx, she did. Can Rhysand, the only person who can save her, bring her back from the brink? Completed. TW Implied suicide, rape/sa, anti Elain.

Of Shadows and Light by TheTeaQueen Part 2 of In the name of healing and happiness. Technically more of a Gwynriel fic, but does have some Nessian since it follows the aftermath of Of death and Resurrection, only Azriel, Gwyn & Elain are the main focus. Ties up a lose thread or two from part 1, and is 100% Anti Elain. Completed. TW Implied child abuse, implied suicide, torture.

Of Reopened Wounds and Retribution by TheTeaQueen Part 3 of In the name of healing and happiness. A trip to the human lands to discuss the treaty leads Nesta to face Thomas Mandray again. This time, she has family willing to go to hell and back for her. Incomplete. TW Implied rape/sa, panic attack.

Lady Death and Her Kingdom by TheTeaQueen Amren pushes Nesta too far, causing her to awaken a strange new power. TW Implied child abuse. Incomplete.

The Hike, Alternatively by TheTeaQueen An alternative take on The Hike from Hell, where Nesta attempt to TW commit suicide TW, and Cassian realises just how messed up their methods, and the events leading up to the hike are. Written for Suicide prevention month. Completed. TW Self harm, suicide, The Hike.

To Pay a Debt by TheTeaQueen When Nesta sees that Feyre didn't include her in any of the paintings, she does the only thing she can think of; Run. Incomplete. TW, attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, mentioned sa.

Burning from the Inside out by TheTeaQueen An au where Nesta's secretly lived with Chronic pain her whole life, only for the cauldron and her new powers to exacerbate it. Complete. TW Implied/referenced child abuse, suicidal thoughts, ableism, internalised ableism.

The Whole Truth by TheTeaQueen An alternative take where Nesta's deepest secret comes to light when Elain explodes at the dinner table one night. This forces the IC and her sisters to reevaluate their perception of her. Incomplete. TW: Child abuse, suicidal thoughts/ideation, forced prostitution, sexual assault (underage!!)

Set my Soul Alight by moodymelanist Nesta finds solace in Autumn. No Nessian. Completed. TW Implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced rape, implied/referenced torture.

Falling by becauseofreading Another take on what happens after Cassian tells Nesta that everybody hates her. Incomplete. TW Self harm, suicidal thoughts, blood and injuries.

Destruction and Renewal by Vorbi Nesta is given the opportunity to form new alliances. Initially, she scoffs at the idea, but after a small, final act of disrespect from the IC, she decides to see where this new path leads us. Incomplete. TW Implied/referenced abuse.

No One Likes A Mad Woman by Separatist_Apologist You made her like that. Nesta has had her choices tripped away, so when Eris offers her an out, she takes it. No happy ending for Cassian. The Night Court gets no sympathy. Completed. TW Domestic violence

A Cup of Tea by shaziskhalid After realising that the Cassian of her dreams isn't the Cassian she's mated to, everything changed. (MCU! Wanda, modern Au). Incomplete.

Promise by Daughterofthesea Begins during that scene where Cassian follows Nesta, and ends with him understanding just how much pain she's in, and deciding to actually help her.

Stay here (I love you, but I need another year) by littleplease Nesta is tired, and losing the will to even try. Complete. TW Apathy, depression, vuage suicidal thoughts.

What you did to me (I'll spend my life trying to rise) by filthymouthedslut Nesta is done with the IC's holier-than-thou attitude. No ship. Incomplete (3/4) as of updating this post.

Everybody hates you by Booksandsushi A different take on the time Cassian tells Nesta that Everybody hates her. Incomplete.

Change is good by Booksandsushi Nesta figures her life out on her own. Complete.

Truth of the Heart By TheFreakPanda The months after ACOFAS leave Nesta presented with some new opportunities. Full of therapy and dancing. Completed.

I've Always Liked to Play with Fire by catalyste After her village is destroyed and family killed by Hybern following Feyre's revenge mission, you wake up healed in the NC. After Lucien leaves you there, you find yourself trapped with Nesta Archeron, who turns out to be an unlikely ally. The two of you plan your escape with the help of Eris Vansera. Polly, Neris/reader, with IC bashing, and dragons. Incomplete.

The relapse by Janes_Melodies Something broke in Nesta when she learned about the results of the vote, knowing it was a tie until Feyre. She was trying for her sisters and for Cassian, yet they still think she's cruel enough to create a whole new trove just to kill them all. For the first time in months, she gave into her desires. Incomplete. TW Alcoholism, Implied/referenced self harm, suicidal thoughts.

You're safe now by annieleonhardtsring Rewrite of the scene where Nesta falls down the stairs, and Azriel stands up for her. Complete.

Love her how she should be loved by julemmaes Cassian overhears his family making some not-so-subtle comments about Nesta, and it pushes him over the edge. So he goes to bat for her, blaming his friends for everything wrong with their relationship with his girlfriend. Modern AU completed.

The Nest World - The Next Life by bat_called_phil ACOSF canon divergence fic that starts with the intervention, but diverts when Nesta takes a stand for herself, and Feyre starts holding Rhys accountable. TW Implied/referenced suicide, Implied/referenced abortion.

A Court of Spite and Isolation by xxTAO Nesta choses the human lands, separated from the IC and the distractions from her trauma, she spirals. Incomplete (4/6) TW Suicidal thoughts, Implied/referenced alcoholism, Suicide attempt.

Come Home by Rhysanoodle Cassian learns how Nesta's been living since she came to Illyria, and which fears haunt her the most. Complete.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook/platonic!OT7

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 [Part 2: Wind]

Somehow, you don't want to go home yet.

Main tags/Warnings: Werewolf!Jungkook, Werewolf!Bangtan, strangers/enemies to lovers, romantic Jungkook x reader, Platonic bangtan x reader, eventual smut, mentions of past emotional/psychological manipulation, hurt and comfort, fluff!, some wariness from MCs side, a nightmare?

Length: 2.3k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

The woods are dark. Deep. Endless, even.

There's no clear path to take, noises all around you echoing, only faint light making you see somewhat. Animals watch you with curious gazes, like you're something they've never seen before- and you feel like you're not yourself, even though the reflection of a puddle on the ground shows your face clear as day.

You're not wearing shoes. Bare feet standing on soft moss. In fact, you're not wearing anything, one look down offering you your bare body, though you feel neither shame nor the need to cover yourself. You're warm enough. You're alone, too.

There's a creature circling around you- a large wolf, dark brown fur almost black as it's body brushes against yours, rubbing it's side over your legs, as if to cover itself in your scent. It licks at your skin, and you reach out to touch it, golden eyes staring back.

It's tail wags. You can't help but laugh.

Suddenly, it's bones break however, blood pooling out of its mouth that forms a snarl, teeth showing in anger as it stands up into a human stance, back arched once it grows into a humanoid beastly version of itself. No longer does it offer you comfort, no longer do you feel safe.

Suddenly, you cover yourself, feeling vulnerable, naked, lusted for as the beasts eyes glare at you with hunger. Claws are sharp, paws looking more like hands as it reaches for you. You trip, fall, frozen on the ground as it crawls over you, jaws opening wide to Suddenly bite down right in your face-

"Hey- you're okay!" Jungkook's voice reassures, worried face the first thing you see as you wake up from your nightmare, breathing heavily. Your skin is sweaty, smelling strange, and you Suddenly feel embarrassed. "Come on, sit up for a moment yeah? So you don't fall again." He says, and it makes you a little uneasy.

Can he read dreams or something? Or have you been talking in your sleep?

Either way, you do as he says, sitting up, taking a deep breath. "Sorry." You alplogize, calming down. You have nightmares like this on a constant basis, though they typically never start as such a pleasant dream.

"Its okay." He reassures you kindly, a hand on your back. "Your clothes are freshly dried by the way. Do you.. want to stay for breakfast?" He asks you in an almost hopeful tone- and you nod after a moment, feeling oddly brave. You don't want to come off as rude, either- they've been very kind in offering you a place to stay for the night after all, the least you can do is stay for a little and properly thank them. "Oh, awesome! I'll tell Jin to put out an extra plate then!" He excitedly says, before he runs to the door- stopping for only a second. "Uh- your clothes are in the bathroom- you can just use my stuff to shower or something.. and uh, there's an unopened toothbrush under the sink in the drawer that you can have." He tells you with a smile, before he opens the door and leaves, closing it after him.

A wave of fresh air comes in from that. Brings in smells of the woods, faint rain, and a little coldness from the morning dew. What time is it even?

After getting ready, you walk outside- unsure where to go, so you just walk around a tiny bit, taking in the scenery around in the daylight. It's cozy- unique in that it feels like it's so disconnected from the buzzing city life. As if a place like this shouldn't exist in the state it's in.

Birds are eagerly moving around, collecting nesting material and chirping their morning talks to one another. A squirrel hops over the wooden roof of Jungkook's cabin, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. There's no artificial sound. No cars honking. No nothing.

"Over here!" Jungkook calls out from the largest house, waving you closer, door open behind him. The smell of something cooking hits you like a truck, causing your stomach to growl and mouth to water at the prospect of food. "Don't worry about them." He offers you kindly as he keeps the door open for you to walk through, your head nodding politely to everyone at the table inside the house.

"We typically take what we want from the main plates here- so just grab what you like to eat, yeah?" The tall man, Seokjin, offers you. "I hope you slept well." He says while everyone begins to grab something for their plates.

"Clearly not." A low voice comments. "She reeks of fear." The man says, putting food on his plate.

"Yoongi!" The leader of the pack scolds, Jungkook sighing.

"She just had a bad dream, nothing big." He explains, before he turns to you. "Sorry. We can just.. smell a lot of things a lot more than you. And Yoongi isn't very.. tactful to say the least." Jungkook apologizes.

"Its okay." You simply nod, quietly eating. It's a bit odd to have all those eyes on you, but you'll manage- simply listening to them banter around, before you finish up and pack up your things.

"Thank you for letting me stay." You tell Namjoon, who nods.

"No issue whatsoever. Please get home safe." He says, politely telling you goodbye before Jungkook walks you through the woods again.

You feel off. As if you're forgetting something- but you checked twice, you have everything you brought with you in the first place. "You can.. always visit, you know?" Jungkook offers, his hands in his pockets as he walks next to you. "Or we could, I don't know.. meet up next time you need some time away from the city. Or just grab something to eat in the city too!" He rants a bit nervously.

"...sure." You nod. "Why not?" You decide, almost talking to yourself mostly, while Jungkook beams a grin next to you.

"I-..." he starts, unsure, as you reach the start of the hicking track where you first met. "...you know you don't have to hide, right?" He asks, and you're not sure what he's talking about.

"What do you mean?" You wonder- but he shakes it off, simply smiling at you, golden eyes kind.

"Nothing. Please- uhm.. could you maybe text me if you got home well?" He asks, and you nod, exchanging phone numbers with him- before he awkwardly nods again, waving at you as he walks back. "I'll see you around." He says, and you smile back equally as uneasy, before you walk down the path a little.

And as you look back, jungkook is out of sight ready-

Though you're not sure why that upsets you so much.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

Back home, you text jungkook that you're alright and back, receiving multiple thumbs up emojis from him, before you open your bedroom drawer for your medication. You'll need to renew the prescription soon- you're running low these days.

Maybe because you didn't take them before your hike you got so sweaty during the night again. You tend to get hot flashes and headaches without you're prescribed pills- your mother having explained to you that you've got an overactive immune system that just attacks your entire body the moment you don't take those pills. And it makes sense. You do feel awful when you're not taking them.

Once more, you find another monthly letter from your mother on your table- unopened, because you just don't want to hear her made up stories on how she needs you. She doesnt- she only want to control you, because she fails at controlling herself. You don't want to live with her any longer, you want nothing to do with her in general- so you just throw it into the drawer in your bedroom, where all the other's lay.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

It's a few days later when you meet up with Jungkook again- the small convenience store quiet as you both eat your instant foods together.

"So, the guy goes 'I'm not gonna let a dog help me lift!' And breaks his wrist not even five minutes later!" Jungkook laughs, shaking his head. "Karma is a thing, I'm telling you." He chuckles, moving to take another bite of his food.

"Does that happen a lot?" You ask. "Like.. people judging you solely based on what you are?" You question, and he shrugs, before nodding.

"Yeah. It's normal." He simply admits. "And to be fair, there's enough real evidence of particularly alphas who just can't keep themselves in check- so I don't blame anybody for being cautious, you know?" He offers, licking his lips clean. "I mean, you weren't really fond of me and my pack either." He jokes.

"That's not true..." you argue softly. "You're.. really nice. I'm not scared of you or anything." You tell him, and he smiles, leaning his head on his palm.

"I'm glad." He offers. "Can I ask you something?" Jungkook questions, and you laugh.

"You just did." You joke, and he rolls his eyes. "But yeah, go ahead."

"Are you sleeping okay?" He asks, and you frown a bit in confusion. "You just.. look really tired." He worries a bit, and you shrug.

"Its a side effect of my meds." You tell him. "I've got.. some issues with my immune system, so I'm on constant medication- and they screw up my sleep." You offer.

"Oh." He answers. "What.. happens when you don't take them?" He wonders.

"I get a fever, usually." You explain, finishing your own food. "And I get dizzy, nauseous. Had to skip them as a teen once because I got my vaccines done- and man was I miserable! My mom had to tell everyone to not even enter my room because I was so bad!" You laugh. "I always got really whiny when I was sick. Always complained. Really annoyed my mom." You explain.

"What about now?" He asks, watching you with an odd sense of curiosity.

"I'm still whiny as hell!" You giggle. "But I just suck it up and get through it. It's just how it is." You shrug.

"Doesn't she visit you?" Jungkook continues. You shake your head.

"No." You answer. "After my dad died, and my mom got her new boyfriend, it just went downhill." You sigh. "Like, my dad would always go camping with me. He was a super outdoors kind of person, you know?" You remember. "But when he died, my mom started keeping me home all the time. I wasn't allowed to go out on my own or sleep over at friend's houses. I get it now that it was because I got sick so easily, but still. It was like she was holding me hostage sometimes." You admit with a distant gaze, before you shake your head in shame. "Oh god, I'm rambling, sorry!" You laugh.

"No, no, you're fine!" He reassures. "Is that why you're so wary of wolves now?" He asks, and you nod.

"She used to tell me all kinds of stories." You admit. "Like, actually disturbing stuff. How your bones abreast when you shift and such." You say, and Jungkook cringes.

"I mean.. shifting isn't very pretty, I admit that, but that's not something to tell a child, especially when it's a human one." He mumbles.

"Thats what I'm saying!" You agree. "Like, why would you tell that to a kid who won't ever understand that anyways??" You whine, before laughing.

You're both quiet for a little while, when you talk again. "Does it hurt?" You ask, and he looks at you for a second, unsure. "When you shift, I mean."

"It does." He nods. "Very much. And it's pretty exhausting." He laughs. "But it's only a few times a year, so its alright. I'm used to it by now- it's kind of like a cramp. When it happens, it's agony- but once it's done, you're good to go."

"Do you really.. like, sleep?" You wonder. "Your human side, I mean."

"No." He chuckles. "I'm still me, no matter what form I'm in." He tells you with a soft tone.

"..do you think I could pet you?" You ask. "Or would that be weird?" You tell him, and he laughs, tips of his ears red.

"Oh I'd absolutely let you!" He responds, golden eyes warm as they watch you.

And you can't help but feel like he's seeing a lot more than you do.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

There's a letter in your inbox today, official envelope making you curious as to what's inside.

The formal words are clearly meant to intimidate, though you check twice that it's directed at you by looking for your name on the form- and it's there, together with your date of birth, and other personal details. But this can't be right. This doesn't make sense.

Your phone vibrates on the kitchen counter, Jungkook's name telling you he's the one calling, probably to ask when you'll come over to watch a movie- but you ignore it, as you read over the words time and time again.

'Last notice regarding your IC-Evaluation test.'

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

[violetmuses]

Angel - T. Richmond ❤️‍🩹

Title: Angel - T. Richmond ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Rebel Ridge” Film Universe

Character: Terry Richmond

Pairing: Terry Richmond + Female Reader

Main Storyline: Facing one nightmare could lead to unexpected joy.

@episodes-ff @diaries-of-me @blackgurlnhermoods @liquorlaughslove @babybratzmaraj @cloveroctobers @becauseimswagman1 @slippinninque 🏷

=====

2024

“Excuse me?” Grounded in the rural town of Shelby Springs, veteran Terry Richmond noticed your own steps moving down this federal corridor.

“Yes?” You've turned around mid-stride when someone catches your attention.

Goodness gracious.

Towering this muscular build as he chose one fitted shirt, veteran Terry Richmond offered unexpected height as his striking gaze reached your direction.

“I left the police station this morning and I don't have representation yet. Do you know anyone available?” His deep yet gentle voice nearly shook up your presence.

“Depending on your case, finding assistance could be difficult. Most of us scramble here with many circumstances.” Clearing your throat, an explanation offered the truth.

“Are you swamped?” Richmond handed out the question for obvious reasons.

“I might as well be.” You sighed while holding this briefcase. “This town is so small that you'll cough and everyone will know about it.”

“I just need help if something goes wrong.” Terry knew better.

“Follow me. Let's speak in private.” You offered this path while heading elsewhere.

______

“I'm sorry if there's too much going on, but how can I move forward?” Richmond sat across from you while placed in this cramped office.

“No chance in hell.” Struggling with advice, you shook your head after learning Terry Richmond's case. "Just show up on Monday like the Chief said or you've lost an opportunity.”

“He's not very nice.” Richmond settled his frustration regarding Sandy Burne, the arrogant Chief of Police.

“Burne is only tolerable if folks put up with his nonsense.” You say. “Defiance gets your ass kicked out.”

“I'll be gone if everything stays in order.” Terry just wanted to leave this place with his cousin Mike alive.

“Be careful out here.” Your voice cautioned. “The police department has more resources than everyone else.”

“Does Burne know who you are?” Terry still looked out.

“Enough to keep me working.” You almost scoffed behind the desk. “Tight skirts always make money. There's so many perverts that I even collected wedding rings for this side of town.”

Damn. Richmond thought.

“Apologies for wasting time.” Terry stood from the chair and gathered his backpack, ready to go.

“Here's my contact info as a safeguard.” You exchanged phone numbers.

“Thank you, Ma'am.” Terry nodded, leaving this establishment.

******

“Terry! I heard the news. Where are you?” You picked up this phone in broad daylight.

Reports explained drama that bled from the corrupt police station.

“At the hospital. Medics started helping Summer McBride.” Richmond acknowledged one of the other legal assistants.

“What's the next plan? You can't stay here forever.” Your voice warned again.

“I've figured out a settlement.” Terry explained further. “We locked enough proof to shut everything down.”

“What should I do?” You didn't even know what to think. “Summer's probably knocked off from ailments.”

“Please pick me up from the lobby.” Richmond continued speaking. “I lost my bike and just gave back one of their police cruisers.”

“Okay. Stay there.” You snatched car keys without thinking twice and rushed out of work.

******

“Terry!” You honked while staying in that driver's seat and Terry jogged outdoors, circled around to meet the passenger side.

“Thank you.” Despite expressing gratitude, Richmond couldn't smile when you punched the gas to avoid more problems.

______

“Where should we go, Terry?“ Given no other choice, you kept driving. “With Burne still mad, you're better off leaving this place.”

“Come with me.” Richmond pulled his deep voice again.

“What?” Squinting, you nearly pulled the car over right now.

“If I couldn't help Mike and Summer get out of here, maybe there's a chance with us.” Terry offered.

“I….” You've made one turn and led Richmond near the airport.

“No matter what happens, we'll keep looking out for each other. Deal?” His words revealed this vow.

“Deal.” You hurried to park the car before gas would run out and reached Terry's hand while entering that larger terminal.

*****

Scoring this new home, you joined Richmond and practically lived together now.

“No luck?” Terry snuck from behind as you work with your laptop by the kitchen table.

“Stop it!” Laughing, you almost swatted him away as this rare yet adorable smile brightened his face.

“I'm asking.” Richmond pointed to the main screen.

“Working soon.” You grinned while confirming another placement.

“Aight, c'mon…” Hardly responding, Terry lifted your weight and carried you over his shoulder, leading this moment upstairs.

“Wait, put me down!” Your laugh would echo straight through his mind forever.

[ceremorph0sis]

We've Made It, My Dear

Pairing: Gale x Drow!Dark Urge (Named)

WC: 1.9k words

Tags+Warnings: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Post-Canon, Happily Ever After, Hurt+Comfort, Nightmares, Mentions Of Gore, References To Death, Dark Urge Storyline Spoilers, Epilogue Spoilers

Author's Note: First time in a WHILEEEEE I've actually written something, and I'm pretty proud of it! Even while on the Dragon Age: The Veilguard hype train, I'm still enamored with BG3 and the Forgotten Realms haha. Didn't edit this brute, but I did look at it and nod approvingly before finally posting. Please let me know if I missed any tags or warnings. Enjoy!

It wasn’t the weight of the tressym on his chest nor the gentle breeze whispering through the open window that awoke Gale. It was the absence of a warm, familiar body by his side.

The milky moonlight spilling into the bedroom framed his belongings -their belongings- a cool silver hue, sharply contrasting the blots of darkness Gale’s eyes hadn’t yet attuned to. A deep sleeper, Gale wasn’t prone to waking in the night, but when he did, it always amused him to see how Nobody passed her time while waiting for him to stir. Some nights, she would read by his side, her pitch-black gaze flitting across every word with more ease than it would in daylight. Other times, she’d patter about the room as stealthily as a drow could manage, inspecting the manner of trinkets and artefacts he had collected over the years. Tonight, she was nowhere to be seen.

Gale carefully shifted Tara off his front and pushed back his blanket, affording himself a quiet congratulations for managing not to wake his fussy companion. Carefully setting his feet on the cold hardwood floor, he navigated the cluttered pathway from his bed to the door, each footfall as silent as the last. He reached for his housecoat, which typically hung from the doorknob, only to find it missing.

He frowned slightly as he turned the knob and made his quiet exit. Down the hallway and to the right, the glow of a gratuitous amount of candles emanated from downstairs. A somewhat concerning sight, knowing that Nobody was as at home in the darkness as she was in light.

The journey to the first floor was a mite more hurried than his escape from the bedroom had been. As he descended the last few steps of stairs, Gale examined the living room. Fully lit. Not a soul to be seen.

“Straj… Sorry, love. Get back to bed. I won’t be far behind you.”

Gale whipped his head towards the kitchen entrance. His startled heart calmed slightly when he saw that it was only Nobody, her grayish-white hair still mussed from sleep, as his must have been. She leaned against the doorway with a guilty smile and his own housecoat wrapped snugly around her frame, yet her eyes told a different story than what her casual demeanor sought to imply.

Nonetheless, Gale sighed in fond annoyance, crossing his arms. “Well, bully for my students, I suppose. They’ll ask me tomorrow, ‘Professor Dekarios, did you get even a wink of sleep last night? You look positively dreadful!’ And I’ll have no choice but to tell them the truth.”

“Oh?” Nobody purred, amused. “What would that truth be, sweetmeat?”

Wandering carelessly to the sofa before the hearth, Gale sat himself down, leaning back on its arm and lifting his legs onto the cushions, spreading them just enough for a lithe drow to slither between and rest her head on his waiting chest.

“That Mrs. Professor Dekarios cruelly abandoned her husband in the cold,” Gale answered simply, eliciting a snort from Nobody. “Don’t you try and tell me that Tara would gladly be my blanket on your behalf. We both know that she’s only a cuddling type at the most inconvenient of times.”

Just as expected, Nobody quickly caught onto her opportunity. She sauntered over with eagerness and slid into her rightful place, a territory she often playfully bickered with Tara over. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she basked in his warmth, the harried expression she worked to hide beginning to melt.

With one hand, Gale lavished her back with slow, languid strokes, the curves and dips of her body flowing familiarly beneath his touch. His other cradled her head with the tender care of a man who had seen her at her worst; who had seen her slick with the blood of innocents, watched as she writhed and thrashed against the bindings he himself tied to keep her from slaughtering him where he stood and cried wordlessly at her corpse after her last stand against her unholy father, the God of Murder. He held her as if after everything she did in the past, in another life, she still deserved comfort. Care. Love.

To Gale Dekarios, formerly known as Gale of Waterdeep among his peers, she truly did. The Dark Urge and Chosen of Bhaal, in his humble opinion, had died at the hands of Orin the Red years ago, back before their adventure had even brought them together. The woman he had met who lay in his arms was his wife, Nobody Dekarios, who had yet to come up with a proper name for herself, always promising him with a cheeky grin that she’d ‘get to it eventually.’

And he’d be damned to the Nine Hells before he let any matter trouble his incorrigibly mischievous, indescribably wonderful wife, no matter how inconsequential.

Or how early in the morning. Or late in the night. Gale hadn’t a single clue what time it was, and frankly, he was hesitant to find out.

“My love,” he said delicately.

“Mhm?”

“Is something bothering you?”

Nobody’s eyes flicked open, her steady breathing hitching. The slight furrow in her brows from earlier returned to her face. The smile on her lips became that much more strained and her eyes refused to meet his, as far as he could tell.

“I’d rather not keep you from your beauty sleep, sweetmeat,” she chuckled uncomfortably.

“Hm… I see. If it’s something we can’t solve with a fireball, you can tell me,” he chided her, gentle yet clear. Nobody rarely took her own issues seriously. Gale learned early on that she often needed a little time to come to terms with what she faced before talking her emotions out.

The corners of Nobody’s eyes crinkled as she exhaled a little laugh at his joke. “Gods, now that I’m awake, it seems rather stupid.”

“My love, the stupidity of your troubles matters not to me.” Gale gave her hair a gentle tug, prompting her to look at him. “I’m here. You’re here. If it’s something we can solve right here and now, we’ll do it together.”

Nobody went silent for a while. She absentmindedly rested her cheek back to his chest, her brow knitting together in a different manner, thinking on how to word her problems out. All the while, Gale held her close, still stroking her back and toying with her hair as patient as could be. Her breathing grew even and her eyes closed, and Gale had almost thought that she had fallen asleep when she finally spoke.

“I- ugh. I had a nightmare.”

Gale’s hand paused its leisurely stroll down the planes of her back. Nobody seldom fell into true slumber, instead opting to go into reverie. As a drow, however, the sleep of ordinary folk was not unknown to her. It seemed that one of her off nights wasn’t as restful as she needed.

“It was… uncanny,” she continued quietly, looking to him once again. “Remember the first party Withers threw for us? We were there. Everyone was the same as they were at the time, happy and smiling and drinking. Except you.”

Gale tilted his head with curiosity. “Is this where the dream goes south?”

“I was- you were- it was sad,” though she laughed through her words, she was distant, trying to talk without thinking about what she was saying. “We did it- we finished off the Absolute, the Chosen, everything. But the crown… you wanted the crown. You wanted to challenge Mystra, so you did. You failed.”

“Your mirror image told me everything in your place: how you got the Crown of Karsus, how you fought Mystra for her domain and how she obliterated you. You gave me a letter I couldn’t bring myself to read. I tried to kiss you, and… nothing. I guess I forgot that it wasn’t you- just a projection. It told me before it disappeared, ‘I can see why I loved you.’ And then it was gone. You were gone.”

Nobody’s voice cracked on the last of her words. Despite his best efforts, Gale recalled the day that Nobody died. His heart shattered on the floor of that wretched temple when Nobody fell to the ground. He felt as if he was drowning, overwhelmed by everything in that moment. The smell of blood permeating his senses. The blank stares of the surrounding cultists, witness to the fall of two leaders in one day. The thoughts in his head, asking over and over why? Why now? Why, when we’ve finally come this far? Why so soon after I’ve only just found her?

“No Waterdeep, no Mrs. Professor Dekarios, no homemade hundur sauce,” Nobody laughed humorlessly. “And look at me, on the verge of tears because of a bad dream. You’re a patient one, sweets.”

“I love you.”

The words came out of Gale’s mouth without a single thought, as they tended to. Loving her was as easy as breathing and to say it was as natural as any spell. Still, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

With a soothing smile on his lips, he pulled Nobody into a kiss, taking in every facet of her being. From the way her long hair tickled his cheeks to the natural scent of her, all petrichor and night-blooming flowers, and even the small noise of surprise she made at his affection, she was breathtaking. Resilient, but most importantly, she was here. Home, in his arms.

They’d made it. The worst of their days were over. Perhaps not forever, but they could breathe easy and live and love each other while they waited for life to take them on their next adventure, whether it be the next Dekarios family reunion or another cult to battle against for the fate of the world.

Gale Dekarios was nothing if not profusely verbose. Even if his kiss had told her all she needed to hear and feel, he refused to let a single doubt plague Nobody’s mind. When she pulled away, he cupped her cheek, reveling in the sweet smile she spared just for him.

“Whatever the Gale in your dreams said and did, give him a good clip ‘round the ear for me next time you see him,” he said firmly, making her giggle. “If he starts sulking on about ambition and godhood again, let him sulk. If he believes that the mere chance of godhood is worth more than the most wonderful woman in this plane and beyond, then I consider that excellent news- more of that aforementioned woman for me to enjoy, I’d say. If I give you even a fraction of a fraction of the happiness you give me every day, then I can confidently say that we don’t need to worry about either what happened before or what could’ve been. Safe to say, the less you think about that prat, the better.”

“You’re not getting jealous of Dream-Gale, are you, sweets?” Nobody teased.

“Jealous? Hah! Hardly,” Gale sniffed. “Disappointed? Definitely. Furious at him for making you distraught? Absolutely, if you’ll pardon my pun. But I refuse to be jealous of a man who’s already fallen after flying too close to the sun. Who needs the sun, when I’m already able to hold the world in my arms?”

Nobody buried her face in his chest, hiding her expression. His love was always too modest for her own good.

“You… ugh. I love you too, but stop that.”

Gale grinned, kissing the crown of her head.

He didn’t plan to.

~Fin <3~

[transmechanicus]

Midnight in my mind’s eye drowning out the daylight = This stage is a prison, a beautiful nightmare = No golden golden grand pianos or voices from the shadows will do anything but feel the same

Not a one of these singles escapes the emotion that Vessel’s tired of fame and its dark side and that his emotional state as a result complicates or outright prevents him from enjoying the good parts. I suspect every song in the album will involve explorations of the same experience, in which case it’s gonna tear my heart out for a variety of reasons, but one of the worst is… Vessel has always maintained he wanted the music to be open for people to experience it without involving his life or any of his specific experiences. Unless you’ve been around since pre-ST or are one of the creeps digging deep into his life you have nothing to directly connect Sundowning, Tomb, or Eden to, though you can make guesses about the allusions in certain tracks. Arcadia is proving different. It’s almost impossible to ignore that these songs are about his current lived experience and ongoing emotional struggles, with a directness that’s atypical for Sleep Token’s discography.

To be clear, i’m extremely glad Vessel is willing to trust the collective with his work and a window to his current emotional state so directly. Both he and the band have my enthusiastic and resolute support. But it strikes me with an existential melancholy that a musician and a band that championed anonymity as a tool to open up audience interpretation and emotional resonance felt the most important topic for new music is expressing their rightful and ongoing discomfort with fame and how they are being treated.

[cegiel-athelia]

Snowfall Absolution

(Sequel to Zayne’s Master of Fate Myth)

In all honesty, the storyline broke me. It was not tragic like Foreseer’s myth, but it was by its own standing still devastating. I was crying at the end of it.

Writing this piece required some degree of research into the Chinese practices and culture. It was interesting and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Admittedly, I am somewhat glad that the developers left the myth open-ended because that meant we could form our own ending.

Hence, my need for closure has made me write this unofficial sequel.

There are some Destiny Cafe interactions which I felt alluded to a reunion and I have incorporated those lines in the story below.

Genre: Angst, Reconciliation, Fluff, Smut (sweet vanilla - ‘cause I cannot, at this time, imagine Master Zayne in any other manner, at least not when it is their first time together)

[An extended version of this fanfiction (involving ‘boom shakalaka’) is only found here on my Tumblr]

Friends from Insta and/or TikTok, welcome to Tumblr. Do drop me a note to say hi and/or share your thoughts on the story. :) I hope this helps to ease the heartbreak of the myth.

===================================

Sleep-ladened eyelids fluttered open as consciousness gradually returned to you and the stiffness in your body eased. The daylight which poured through the long oriental windows splayed across your face, making you shield your eyes behind your forearm. Your eyelids were still heavy from sleep and your temple throbbed as though you had been asleep for far too long.

Laying in bed still in a daze, you watched through your mind’s eye as frenzied visions raced through it. Visions that that felt so real, so alive, that it blurred the line between dream and reality.

In your dream, you had been searching for him for so long that you had almost given up any hope of ever seeing him again. Until one night, you found him. His face lacked the warmth you expected from him, but it was the fact that he had forgotten about you which broke your heart.

On hindsight, you could hardly say that your visions were dreams, but rather, a collection of nightmares, which massively snowballed with you caught in its path, never able to escape from it.

“Snowball…” you muttered tiredly, voice fresh from slumber. The distant melody of the wind chime seemed to grow louder as your mind focused on it. ‘Wind chime… A wind chime?’ Your eyelids flew open and your irises narrowed with sudden realisation. “Zayne!”

Never have you ever sprung out of bed so quickly, but you soon found yourself on the floor, the wooden boards creaked under your weight. You felt a pull in both your calf muscles as if you had not used your legs for months. Your breathing strained as though your lungs had not been used to its fullest capacity. Pushing these oddities from your mind, you strove to gather yourself.

Your eyes scanned the room, coming finally to rest on the long bamboo-printed drapes which swayed slowly side to side, assuring yourself that you are indeed remembering correctly. This is his abode.

‘But what if he isn’t there? What if I am still alone?’ Doubt filled your thoughts as you fought against every stubborn muscle to pick yourself up, ignoring the strain in your legs as you raced towards the doors, forcefully sliding them open.

A flash of sunlight blinded you, causing you to squint involuntarily and hide your eyes behind your fingers. Still, you persevered. You stumbled clumsily over lush green grass, quickening your pace once your eyes had adjusted to the light, heading towards the one place you knew you could find him.

The steady thumps of your feet against the crushing grass carried you as you neared the location where Sacred Tree stood. From where you were, you could already see the top of the tree. Its white flowers outshining the green leaves, painting the tree a pure white— like snow, except that it was warm.

You halted your approach when a tall figure standing under the tree came into view. You assimilated this person from afar. The man wore the very familiar navy blue and white garb; its long sleeves gracefully cascaded by each side of his elegant robe. His long black hair which was held together with a single embossed sliver hair clip swayed captivatingly in the wind and in his hand, was a jiǎndú— a bamboo scroll which he was immersed in. He was as magnificent as you remembered him to be.

Your heart pounded deafeningly in your ears. It was all that you could hear. He was so close. The need to touch him was palpable. You needed to know that he is real and not simply a figment of your imagination or dream. Your eyes stung from tears that rolled down your cheeks.

Before you realised, your feet had lifted off the ground as you sped towards him with all the strength you could muster, colliding hard into his back. The scroll which he was reading thudded softly onto the grass.

You did not care for the shocked gasp he exhaled on impact. All you wanted and needed was to hold him. Your arms wrapped around his torso so tightly that it would take two strong men to free him. You held him as though he would disappear at any moment. Gripping onto his robe, you desperately wanted to appreciate the tangibility of his person. ‘He’s real!’ You internally repeated this to yourself. With your face buried firmly into his back, you soaked in the warmth of his frame.

His body relaxed in your hold and a familiar sigh drifted to your ears. You had never thought that you would feel this elated to hear him sigh.

“You’re as restless as ever.” He murmured in the low tenor that you missed so dearly as his hands came to rest over yours.

Your emotions completely enveloped you as you sobbed brokenly, face still buried in his strong back. As much as you hated for him to see you in this state, it was beyond your control. It was telling from the dull pain in your chest that your broken heart was aching; and it was aching for only him. The revelation overwhelmed you. It was not that you had simply enjoyed his company during the time you spent together or that you missed him in that strange, vivid period of dreaming. You love him.

Gently prying your hands away from his waist, he manoeuvred around to regard you. His arms reached around to pull you into an embrace. You lingered long in his hold, breathing in the sweet floral scent on his clothes and feeling a sense of calm washing over your being as your wayward emotions progressively steadied.

Withdrawing just slightly from him, you finally looked upon his face only to find him returning your gaze. The expression that he wore was soft, almost endearing. You found yourself wholly mesmerised by the emerald of his eyes.

“Zayne…” His name rolled from your lips.

His palms cupped your face; thumbs stroking away the residual tears staining your cheeks. “I thought you’d come when the snow stopped.” He chuckled softly. “It is now midway through Spring.”

A smiled crept onto your features, but you made sure to let out an annoyed click of your tongue at his teasing and brought your fists to rest at your hips. “Don’t be mean!”

Now free from your hold, the master proceeded to retrieve the fallen scroll and made his way to the Sacred Tree, settling comfortably under it. With a tiny tilt of his head, he beckoned you to join him as he resumed reading the scroll. Accepting the invitation, you sat quietly next to him. Your mind wandered to how puzzling it was that you were missing him so much, when all of it was merely a bad dream.

You rested your head lightly on his shoulder, appreciating his presence now more than ever. Simply that he did not react adversely to you, comforted you.

“Zayne?” You called out quietly.

Not averting his attention from the scroll, he answered, “hmm?”

You hesitated a moment before speaking. “I had a really bad dream. I dreamt that you and Bai left me in the mountain while I was asleep. I was reminded what it felt like to be alone...”

Zayne remained silent.

“When I awoke, my power was gone. You had left me a snow-covered umbrella, but it broke in the fourth year. Thereafter, people around me began acting strangely as if…” Your voice trailed off as you painfully recollected the dream. “As if I was a monster— like in the past. Except that, I was nowhere near a safe place and I survived by running from town to town.”

“I pursued tavern-gossips of a travelling old mage and it led me finally to the temple of Si-Ming..” Lifting your head off his shoulder, you leaned in to peer at Zayne whose eyes remained affixed on the scroll, but his gaze appeared distant.

“In the dark of the night on the tenth calendar year, I thought I saw you, or an apparition of you.” You braced yourself as the dream grew darker. “I recall feeling happy believing that I had finally found you after so many years, but when I called your name, you attacked me instead. Without my power, I couldn’t defend myself.”

Your fingers fidgeted with the tassel of his woven wrist bracelet, the same one you had chosen for him at the village during the day of the Nuoji— the Spring Sacrificial Ceremony.

“The last thing I remember was the cold ice creeping up from my feet, swallowing me whole. I was certain I was going to die by your hands…”

Allowing yourself engage in the emotions that you felt, you said half-teasingly, “And to think that all those years, only thoughts of you consumed me! It was those thoughts alone that kept me going. I had even bought you a pouch of those forever blooming flowers, called Jasmines, which I knew you’d love in case I found you at the temple.”

Zayne continued to keep mum as he watched your fingers twine and untwine his bracelet. You had expected him to at least smirk at your last line and deny any involvement since it was only a dream, but he only remained quiet with eyebrows furrowed.

You caught the momentary flitting of his gaze to the tiny white and green pouch sitting on the table. A feeling of déjà vu washed over you as a memory of a merchant placing a similar coloured pouch in your palms replayed itself. Your mind was reeling. You saw another vision of the pouch falling onto the temple’s cobblestones when you had dodged an attack by the Zayne in your dreams.

It was then that realisation dawned on you and a heavy weight pulled on your heart.

“Zayne.. Please, tell me that it was all a bad dream.” Your voice left you more brokenly than you expected.

He sighed, “I cannot,” as he took the pouch and poured its contents onto his open hand. Little white flowers coated in ice glistened under the sunlight, refracting a myriad of colours around you. He had cryonically preserved them to last forever for reasons that were best known only to himself. However, the beauty of the flowers was lost in that moment as your mind struggled to cope with the disbelief, waiting for him to explain.

“I did what I must to protect you.” He was always one of few words and this time was no different. Zayne returned the jasmines into the pouch and set it back on the table preciously.

Your gaze travelled from the pouch to stare blankly at the grass and your fingers grasp tightly onto the hem of your skirt, afraid to hear the answer to your next question. “…How long has it been, Zayne?”

“A century.” Nonchalantly, he leaned forward to lift the clay teapot. The fragrant notes of the pu’er cha permeated the air as tea streamed into the teacup.

“I’ve been asleep for a hundred years?!” You exclaimed in shock, placing your palms on the ground before you and leaning in to check his expression to ascertain if he was joking.

The master merely shrugged, while sipping from the earthen teacup. “Well, you did sleep for longer than I had anticipated. It is midway through Spring.”

Your mouth was agape. A joke at this time did not feel appropriate. You rolled your eyes at his bone dry humour and puffed out your cheeks in a pout.

With a chuckle, he returned the tiny teacup to the table and then, reached to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, while wearing an expression that was gentle and kind. It was impossible to be angry with Zayne.

You scooted to sit in the space between his legs. His green eyes followed your every movement. “Zayne..” you returned his gaze and gingerly, placed a palm on his cheek. With utmost seriousness, you revealed all that you were keeping in your heart, “please, don’t ever leave me again. At least, not for my sake, but only for your own, if you must.”

A gentle smile graced the lips of the Master of Fate as he grabbed you into an embrace. His chin rested atop your hair as his voice resounded clearly inside your mind, “Then I will never leave you. Not even if fate wills it.”

====================================

Your fingertips traced over the finely woven material of his robe as you basked in his embrace, resting your head against his broad chest. His heart was resonating a steady and consistent beat in your ear. The serenity of his presence and that of the Sacred Tree made all of this feel so surreal that you hoped that you were not actually dreaming. A hundred years was way more than enough.

Zayne felt the slight change in your aura when doubt started to fill you and he released you from his embrace to gaze upon you.

He was extraordinarily handsome, even more so when he wore this kind expression. It was hard to not be completely mesmerised by him. Your focus trailed from his eyes to his lips which was a mere distance away such that his gentle breaths tickled your nose. A whisper of his name glided from your lips as your fingers grasped onto the material of his cloak. You yearned to close the gap and you wondered if he felt the same since he did not seek to put distance between your bodies. You pressed your palm to gently cup the side of his jaw and your lashes hooded your eyes. The tip of your nose brushed against his, hoping that this deity would oblige and grant your wish.

His familiar floral scent wafted into your nose with the breeze. It was almost as if time had stopped around the both of you. Then, you thought your heart had ceased when his eyelids lowered and his lips pressed lightly onto yours. You wound your arms round his neck and your chest pressed flushed against his unyielding one. The kisses grew hungrier with each moment that passed, both of you revelling in the newness of your shared feelings.

So consumed you were with his decadent blessings that you next found yourself being laid gently onto the grass. He barely broke away from your lips as he did. His long ponytail fell over his shoulders and onto the side of you. His robe cascaded on both sides of you, almost hiding you within it.

Unlike his icy demeanour, his body, which pressed against yours was warm like the gentle sunlight, melting away your worries. His kisses were fervent and needy, wanting nothing more than to taste every inch of you. You moaned into his mouth, begging him to bestow you with more of him. Your fingers tangled themselves in his silky long hair. Your entirety ached for him especially when a pressure came into contact with your secret place. The evident bulge at his crotch rolled against your burning center, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine which caused your body to arch gracefully into his.

Zayne hissed at the buck of your hips, head tilting back and eyes squeezing shut. He was such a gorgeous man. He groaned almost ferally as he regained himself, green eyes now tinted a dark shade of desire, until a sudden look of realisation gripped him and he attempted to recoil.

“Don’t..” you held on. Thumb caressing his well-defined cheekbone. “Don’t stop.”

A pink hue glowed across his cheeks to his ears. “Is this okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

The nuance in his words made your stomach coil and your femininity pool in anticipation. “You won’t.” You leaned up to take his lips again, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, guiding him back to you.

He took you desperately. Crashing his lips into yours, he slipped his tongue past your teeth to meet yours in a passionate dance. His gloved fingers caressed tiny circles on your neck. Your kisses continued growing more heated and the groans from the both of you reverberated in the surroundings. You fumbled clumsily at the waistband of his pants from your position, that is, underneath him. It was clear what you wanted, needed. Zayne revelled in observing you attempt to undress his lower half, thoughtfully raising his body just slightly to give your hands space to work.

Finally managing to free his aching manhood from the confines of his pants, your heart momentarily faltered. Zayne’s earlier cause for concern was legitimate. He was after all, magnificently yet frighteningly well-endowed.

He was pleased with your apprehension and rewarded you by angling down to kiss you. You felt his heated, engorged tip graze against your folds, moving ever so slightly in time with his kisses, sliding back and forth only at the outskirts, and coating himself slick in the process. The deliberate loitering at your entrance and the sensual motions against your swollen peak was torturously maddening. You cried into his lips from the sensitivity; your hooded eyes pleading for more. With an inhale, he slid his tongue into your mouth and eased his tip into you inch by inch as your walls fought to snuffle out the intruding thickness.

Your body worked on overdrive just trying to accommodate his endowment. His girth so thick that it filled every inch of you. You cried out to him, fingers desperately gripping onto his biceps for dear life. Your constraints clinged onto every part of him, successfully ripping a groan from his throat when he finally buried all of himself deep inside you.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, guiding him impossibly deeper into your depths as your eyelids grew far too heavy for you to keep them opened. His elbows rested on the grass at either side of your shoulder as he set a slow and steady rhythm.

His face was buried in the crux of your neck, lips hovering at your throat, every one of his exhalations burned against your skin. He then closed his mouth over your hastening pulse, causing your insides to clamp hard and elicited from you a whimper which you failed to contain.

“Am I hurting you?” His voice was evidently unsteady as he battled against his desire to ravage you without care.

You shook your head, looked into his eyes, and said, “no, I want to experience everything with you.. and about you..”

Zayne throbbed within you at your words, and released a growl into your nape as his hips surged forward in an uncontrolled thrust. You gasped beneath him. Fingers grasping onto his garment with one hand and the other pressing its palm to the back of his head, the metal hair ornament underneath cold against your touch.

Your body rocked in sync with his now surging tempo. His corybantic pants at the side of your ear was telling of how close he was to relenting to his gratification. His length plowed with utmost precision into you, extending deeper and hitting harder, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut from pleasurable pain. The curve of his shaft so perfect that each stroke into you rubbed against the one tender spot that made the blood rush to your head. A burning coil in your insides already accumulating dangerously. It took all of you to keep your mind from reeling.

“Zayne, I’m close.” You rasped between breaths, the glorious sensations making it difficult to think of anything else but the impending rapture.

“So am I.” His words faltered as he slipped his arms between your back and the ground to scoop you up to straddle him, your thighs above his. The deepened contact of his manhood against your cervix was sending mind-blowing jolts with each thrust. Your back arched onerously as he brought you closer and closer. You were losing control of your own body, your insides clamping down erratically as you neared your release.

He groaned at the tightening of your walls around his shaft. His hips bucking upwards to plunge himself into you with urgency while burying his flushed face in your nape to muffle his delicious moans.

The tremendous pleasure he was building inside you was threatening to burst forth at any given moment. Every stoke drove you closer and closer to the edge. His name rolled repeatedly from your lips; one more urgent and pleading than the last, as you could no longer form coherent thought. All that was important and needed now, is him and only all of him.

Then, a blinding burst of white light flashed behind your eyelids and pleasure overtook you, completely invading your senses. Your fingers gripped desperately onto anything it could hold onto. Your body arched involuntarily into him, trembling with each jolt of euphoria.

Zayne gasped as your release overpowered your control of your movements, your walls pulsating fiercely against his length. A wave of tingling pleasure rippled under his skin as he struggled to withstand the overwhelming sensations in futility. As a last spurt, he bucked upwards unbridled and unrestrained, allowing himself to finally succumb to his climax with a strangled grunt. He shut his eyes tight and emptied rope after rope into your vacant space.

Shuddering as he came down from his high, he collapsed, laying his ear on your heaving chest. Both your breathing laboured and uneven.

“Are you alright?” He asked shakily, gathering enough strength to gaze into your eyes.

“Mm.” you nodded, giving him a faint smile. Your fingers brushed the misplaced strands of his black hair back to where they belonged. “I love you, Zayne.”

His jade orbs sparkled in the light as he chuckled softly. “Is that so?” Pressing his lips to your forehead, he whispered, “I’ve loved you before I met you. Hold me and never let go.”

[daffi-990]

Tagged by @hippolotamus & @dangerpronebuddie

Rules: You will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

My words were WATER and THUNDER.

W - When their parents finally retired for the night, Daniel grabbed the packs they had prepared earlier and hidden under their beds, while Maddie gently scooped up her baby brother. (Fantasy AU)

A - As punishment, Eddie’s men were killed in front of him and Eddie himself banished, under pain of death. (secret fantasy wip .. yes it is different to my other fantasy au.)

T - The moment is interrupted by the sound of the window slowly winding down, Chris poking his head out with a very unamused expression on his face. “Are you guys done kissing or do I have to get a taxi home?” (Eddie breakdown fic)

E - Eddie wakes with a pained groan and immediately wants to dive back into unconsciousness. (Rivals sequel)

R - Red from Eddie’s blood (Rivals sequel)

and

T - Then he’ll break and contemplate packing his bags and running away to start his life over. Again. (wip from Daylight series)

H - He’d returned home to collect his family, his wife and son, only to find his home destroyed, and his wife murdered. (secret fantasy au)

U - “Usually it takes me a bit longer to get all the lyrics together, but uh, I guess the wound was so fresh that the words just seeped out of it.” (wip from Daylight series)

N - Nothing he learns about Eddie will scare him away. (Eddie breakdown fic)

D - Despite his better judgment screaming at him to be cautious, Buck's curiosity and something about Eddie’s presence radiating a strange sense of security that Buck can't quite explain, pushes him to take a leap of faith. (Fantasy AU)

E - Eventually exhaustion comes and Buck falls into the dark abyss of sleep, sending out one final prayer that this please all just be a nightmare. (Rivals sequel)

R - Remembers how he and Hen (and Chim later on when Bobby trusted enough to let another person into his world) would take turns sitting with Bobby at his apartment on his bad days or driving him to AA meetings so he knew he wasn’t alone in the battle, they had his back. (Eddie breakdown fic)

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @diazheartsbuckley @spotsandsocks @steadfastsaturnsrings @sibylsleaves @spagheddiediaz @queerdiazs @queerweewoo @wildlife4life @wellcollapse @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @lover-of-mine @lonelychicago @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @rainbow-nerdss @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @tizniz @bekkachaos @beyourownanchor6 @kitteneddiediaz @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @devirnis @honestlydarkprincess @smilingbuckley @but cker @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley and anyone else who wants to play 😊

Oh and your word is SPACE.